Tuesday, October 10, 2017

From apples to a sometimes fizzy alcoholic drink, this fall favorite has been made throughout history.

In the simplest, most basic definition, cider is fermented apple juice. In the United States, we’ve gotten our terms for alcoholic and nonalcoholic cider somewhat confused over the decades, so we usually refer to alcoholic cider as “hard cider” while everyone else in the world just calls it “cider.” I follow the global crowd for our terminology: alcoholic fermented apple juice is “cider”; unfermented apple juice is simply “juice.”

True cider, like the kind you make yourself or get from a good craft cidery, is very different from the mass-market cider you may be used to. For one thing, it’s typically not very sweet. It can be tart, sour, balanced, funky, mellow, spicy, dry, bitter, apple-y or wine-like but it’s generally not what most of us would consider sweet. True cider isn’t even always fizzy; many traditional ciders are actually served still (that is, nonsparkling or nonfizzy).

If you, like me, spent your college years drinking cider that was as sweet as candy and as fizzy as soda, then you’ll need to retrain your taste buds. I recommend a cider tasting to get a feel for what you’re about to make. Head to a well-stocked store and pick up a few different bottles. Get a mix of U.S. craft ciders and imported ciders, if you can. Then invite a few curious friends over to your place and start opening bottles. You’ll quickly get an idea of what the wide world of ciders has to offer — and what tasty rewards are in your future when you make your own.

How Cider is Made

All cider starts with juice. How and where you get this juice, its quality, its particular characteristics and its balance of flavors — these are all factors that go into your finished cider. You don’t have to seek out fancy heirloom apples just to make good cider, but you do need to put some thought into the juice you’re using. For now, just be assured that no matter what apples or juice you have available, you can definitely make a tasty cider. No doubt about it.

Once you have some juice, turning it into cider is the easy part. Fresh-pressed juice is so full of natural sugars and wild yeasts that you can practically see it start to ferment in front of your eyes. Even pasteurized, store-bought juice has plenty of sugar to ferment; you just need to add some yeast purchased at a homebrew store.

The yeast eats up the sugar and gives you alcohol and carbon dioxide in return. In a few weeks, you’ll have homemade cider — it really is just about as simple as that!

Making a Modern Cider

People have been turning apples into cider for almost as long as there have been apple trees, so what is “modern” cider? This is cider making tailored to a new generation of cider drinkers. It’s cider made in tiny third-floor walk-ups, sunny country kitchens and suburban garages with the door rolled up. It’s cider that uses what you have on hand, whether that’s picking up a gallon of fresh juice at the farmers’ market, using your juicer to juice your own apples, or cruising the pantry aisle at the grocery store for some bottled stuff. It’s cider on a scale that works for you — small 1-gallon experiments or larger 5-gallon batches to share with friends. It’s cider made with hops, or with fresh pineapple, or with bourbon. Modern cider is your cider; it’s whatever you want it to be.

Friday, October 6, 2017

You can find a lot of handy items at Virginia breweries, but there’s one thing you’ll never find: a coupon for beer. Not at a brewery that’s obeying the law, anyway. The Code of Virginia is unambiguous. Offer instantly-redeemable beer coupons, and you’re on the wrong side of the law.

Following this statute and scores of others — collectively known as the Alcoholic Beverage Control Act — is a fact of life for businesses in the state’s growing craft beverage industry. There are laws governing nearly every step of the process, from the moment a recipe flows from a brewer’s mind to the second it quenches someone’s thirst.

Some people within the industry wonder whether it’s time to rewrite the playbook — if not through a major overhaul, then at least tweaks that could better reflect the realities of the 21st century.

Most manufacturers laud recent legislation that has allowed the craft industry to flourish. Since the Virginia legislature’s 2012 passage of the landmark law that allowed sale and consumption on premises at breweries, there’s been a flurry of actions aimed at bolstering the industry. Still, most of the laws that govern craft beer come from an era when society had a different relationship with alcohol.

Travis Hill, chief operating officer of the Virginia Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control, says many of Virginia’s laws regarding alcohol originated in the post-Prohibition era. Nevertheless, he says, they are centered on public safety and promoting fair business practices, which remain important today.

Some of the regulations, rightfully or not, call to mind the stereotypical lawlessness of Prohibition-era alcohol consumption. “The interior lighting shall be sufficient to permit ready discernment of the appearance and conduct of patrons,” reads a statute that seems to be aimed at forbidding seedy speak-easies.

Another statute appears to prevent shady financial relationships that shut out competition. When a manufacturer sells alcohol to a retail establishment, the goods “shall be for cash paid and collected at the time of or prior to delivery.” There are even the traces of Virginia’s now-mostly-repealed blue laws, which restricted business on Sundays. “Persons licensed to sell alcoholic beverages at wholesale shall make no delivery to retail purchasers on Sunday.”

While those in the craft beverage community must navigate nearly all the laws at some point, there are a few sections of the regulations they brush against regularly, according to Porter Hardy, president of Smartmouth Brewing Co. in Norfolk and co-chairman of the Virginia Craft Brewers Guild’s government affairs committee.

“Much of what we’re dealing with is what we can and can’t advertise, and what we can and can’t do together with restaurants,” he says.

People in the industry sometimes have trouble understanding all the intricacies of the law. Even Hardy, who practiced law before switching careers, sometimes needs clarification. “There are consistently times we have to check the statutes and work with the ABC agents,” he says. Hill says the department constantly receives questions about regulations as new business practices and technology change the way people communicate about and consume alcohol. One example is the emerging use of social media.

Advertising regulations make up a large part of the ABC Act, and most of the laws are straightforward, as with a ban on advertising alcohol near schools and playgrounds. But social media hasn’t fit so tidily into the advertising models in place when the laws were crafted. The interpretations that come out of discussions hosted by ABC officials offer some workable — if unconventional — solutions. “If five restaurants sell my mead, I can’t highlight one of those on Facebook and say, ‘Go to this or that restaurant,’” says Glenn Lavender, who owns Silver Hand Meadery in Williamsburg. “But if a restaurant posts that they’re selling it, I’m allowed to re-post that.”

ABC agents have also demonstrated flexibility and creative work-arounds within the letter of the law. A hallmark of Virginia’s ABC Act is the three-tier system. Breweries and distilleries must sell their products to retailers through third parties, called distributors. Manufacturers are not permitted to distribute their own beer. But that doesn’t mean that a brewer’s spouse can’t be a distributor. Aaron Childers owns Pretty Ugly Distribution. Her husband, Shawn, co-owns Big Ugly Brewing Co. in Chesapeake. Pretty Ugly distributes beer made by Big Ugly and several other craft breweries in Hampton Roads.

Childers says the idea is not unique. A few other breweries in Virginia have an affiliated — but entirely separate — distributor. She says the separation is key to the business model’s legality. “There has to be crystal clear delineation between the businesses,” she says. “We have completely separate bank accounts and separate records.” That relationship is perfectly legal — even facilitated by ABC officials. “I call them all the time with questions, and my first line is always, ‘It’s me again.’”

There’s a case to be made for a complete overhaul of ABC laws given the fluid evolution of craft beverages, according to Lavender. “When a lot of these laws were made, the industry was not what it is now,” he says. Mead, made from fermented honey and water, is especially tricky to deal with, because it doesn’t fit neatly in a single category. Yet Lavender is certain of ingredients he can’t include. “I’m not allowed to ferment any grain at all, because I don’t have a brewery license,” he says. Lavender thinks making laws based on the outcome of fermentation would make more sense than beer, wine, and spirits categories. “We’re all just fermenting different sugars anyway,” he says.

But Kevin Erskine, owner of Coelacanth Brewing Co. in Norfolk, says some of the laws, though they seem arbitrary, serve to help the industry’s little guys. One regulation he highlights is a rule capping at $10 the value of gifts — wine glasses or hats, for instance — given to patrons as a way to promote their products. Yes, he says, it’s a pain making sure freebies fall within this limit, but this also prevents large corporations with deep pockets from gaining unfair advantage with lavish gifts. Erskine says in aggregate, Virginia’s regulations do a fair job reining in the liabilities inherent in alcohol production, but there can always be improvements.

He says a bigger issue than what some see as nanny-state governance is overlapping jurisdiction. While the breweries must follow Virginia’s laws, they have to mind the regulations of federal and local governments, too, and those different levels of oversight aren’t always on the same page.

Virginia is a good place to be as more people look to wet their whistle with craft beverages, Erskine says. In some other states, such as Florida and North Carolina, there’s outright antagonism between parties within the brewing industry. And lawmakers in other states aren’t always so eager to invest in the craft beverage industry.

“The reality is that, especially here in Virginia, the government is doing its best to help this industry grow,” he says.

As the sun falls a little sooner each day and we bid summer adieu, we welcome late nights with good company by backyard fires, snuggly comfort food and plenty of flavorful brews. While the great love-it-or-hate-it pumpkin beer debate rages on, let’s turn our attention to some worthy autumn-tinged gems that warrant a sip and a savor.

Scott Elmquist

Aragonia by Twisted Ales

Aragonia by Twisted Ales
5.3 percent alcohol

This English brown ale pours amber, is medium-bodied and curiously leads with bold espresso notes. It settles sweeter on the palate than you might expect with detectable caramel and chocolate flavors. No bitterness here, folks. With fairly low alcohol, you’re safe to enjoy more than one of these malty delights — but don’t get too twisted. twistedales.com.

Scott Elmquist

Sour Stout by Väsen.

Sour Stout by Väsen
5.4 percent alcohol

What’s happening here? That’s likely your first reaction to this deliciously deceptive sour stout. A most solid and unexpected fall beer, this one pours dang near opaque, but is remarkably light-bodied. Roasted nibs, chocolate and other flavors you would expect from a stout immediately hit those notes after a swirl of the glass, but a sip reveals all the tartness of a well-crafted sour. Distinctive — but not acidic or vinegary — flavors hang out alongside a smidge of fruitiness before a bizarro return to a dark chocolate finish. Keep an eye on its Scott’s Addition taproom — it’s got a bourbon barrel-aged version of Smoked Farmhouse in the works. vasenbrewing.com.

Scott Elmquist

Reaper's Red IPA by Three Notch'd.

Reaper’s Red IPA by Three Notch’d
4.9 percent alcohol

Straight out of the Three Notch’d RVA Collab House comes a devilishly good red India pale ale in collaboration with Creepy Hollow Scream Park. Crisp, refreshing and light-bodied, this brew is perfect for those fall days where it’s hoodie weather at sunup and short sleeves by midday. A taste of this shimmering ruby brew unleashes both caramel and grapefruit notes courtesy of a Centennial and Cascade hop duo and some white wheat, flaked oats and Carared malt. We have a Halloween beer that doesn’t involve a controversial gourd, folks. threenotchdbrewing.com.

Intermission

English Mild by Intermission.

English Mild by Intermission
4.2 percent alcohol

This brewery might be the new kid on the block with just two offerings on tap at press time, but we’re expecting good things if what follows is as tasty as its English Mild. This is an easy drinker, with very little bitterness that fills the glass with a deep, rich brown. Roasty malt and caramel flavors stand out, although you might also detect a bit of licorice if you spend some time swirling it around on the palate. There’s a slightly silky mouth feel and some nice lacing on the glass once the creamy tan head subsides. A basic style done just right. intermissionbeer.com.

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